


Bacchanal

by BadOldWest



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: F/M, PWP, Pegging, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 15:59:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12193074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadOldWest/pseuds/BadOldWest
Summary: “Bacchanal,” she replied, raising her eyebrows.“What’s that?”“Celebratory, wild revelry. Usually food and drink and debauchery. Usually in worship or the god-”He smirked at her, his arm slipping around her shoulders. She lost her words.“That’s what it was, Rox. Save the world by day, and really live in it by night.”





	Bacchanal

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of a fix-it. Roxy fucking deserved better.

“Well, save the world, Rox, and you know what that means.”

Eggsy’s grin is lascivious, which is meant to scandalize her, but it won’t. It will annoy her, but her shoulder cuts a diagonal into his.

“I _wish_ you had never told me about that.”

He reels back from her shove, chuckling, and places his hands on her shoulders. “You’re my best mate. Of course I’m gonna tell you.”

He’d been pretty composed about the whole incident with the Swedish princess, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t privately gloated about it to her for the past few years. His posture had honestly improved since it happened, his South London swagger a bit more present in his posture, usually centering in his hips and the openness of his thighs when he walked into a room. He has an _Eggsy Face_ , she calls it, when it is obviously on his mind. Smug, lower lip hidden inside his mouth, and his neck sort of bobs.

And like a gravitational pull, he is _always touching her_ when he speaks of it.

The first time, he was drunk, and they were in a pub, and he was gripping her wrist with his face close to hers, sort of gleeful and sort of stunned.

“It was crazy, Rox, I’d just saved the world, had some champagne and then she’s lying on her stomach on the bed and just lets me do whatever,” His accent slipped in and many of those syllables vanish under a layer of alcohol, but she can understand him.

He wanted her to understand him. She didn’t know why, but she tried, there was a pleading tone that made his stunned surprise kind of childish.

“Bacchanal,” she replied, raising her eyebrows.

“What’s that?”

“Celebratory, wild revelry. Usually food and drink and debauchery. Usually in worship or the god-”

He smirked at her, his arm slipping around her shoulders. She lost her words.

“That’s what it was, Rox. Save the world by day, and really live in it by night.”

It sort of made sense, more than any explicit reference to that sex act ever really had for her. It wasn't just his pride, it was her curiosity, and her blood stirred whenever he mentioned it. She made him describe it. She couldn't listen to his throat swallow consonants and his accent thicken for hours. She wanted to know. 

A week ago, in a different pub, quieter and less rowdy and just sort of hazy and calm, he repeated the story. This time, instead of it hot off his success, it was sort of longing.

“How did it feel?” she found herself asking before taking a sip.

He leaned his head back. “Wild. I was so adrenalized.”

“Rough?”

He shook his head, not lifting it from it’s propped position, gazing at the ceiling.

“Really tight,” he described when prompted again. “And there was no whining about it. She just took it. Usually when you can finally whine your way into…” He looked down at the table. “I feel like I shouldn’t be telling you this.”

She had shrugged, sipping her drink. “You can tell me. I don’t mind. It’s mildly interesting, because you have such a way of acting when you talk about it.”

“I’m glad I amuse you,” he deflected defensively.

She shook her head, her ponytail swaying, and it caught his eye. It always did, she half suspected one of these days he was going to start pawing it like a cat.

His attention was unconscious, but it still affected her, the enratpured look at her hair made her react for better or for worse. The small smile that graced his lips as he watched it was what did her in. “And that’s just when you’re not even trying. Imagine how much fun it could be if you worked for my attention.”

He leaned back, furrowed his brow. Examined her.

“Really?”

She could play that game, until he flinched. She’d win.

She looked back, smiling in a way that was impossible to decipher. Inviting but distant. He didn’t know whether to lean closer, and that was the point. She wasn’t going to play this obviously, if she was obvious, he’d take the piss.

Back on the plane, he’s giving her the same assessing look. Squinty eyed. She looks down.

“Aren’t you ready to save the world?”

“No one is offering me that sort of bacchanalia.” She rolls her eyes and checks the harness of her parachute.

Eggsy grins down at her. “All you had to do was ask, my Roxy.”

She shakes her head, a smile finally gracing her lips, reluctantly. Her eyes lift up, and only the jealousy of his enjoyment is in her longing, or at least, that’s what she tells herself.

He pulls her into his arms with a kiss on the cheek.

“You pull off this mission, we’ll celebrate any way you want.”

She laughs it off, but his lips graze down her neck, a hum in his throat as though he really, really wants this to happen.

She steps back, preparing to drop out of the jet. He helps her. 

Before she falls, she says; "Promise?"

He smiles. 

"Promise."

Merlin's giving her directions. She nods once and drops into the night sky, the rush of the fall only rivaled by Eggsy's promise. 

**Author's Note:**

> If Eggsy getting it in the ass like a Swedish Princess isn't your thing, now's where you turn back.


End file.
